


Thursday Nights

by lecygne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Dubious Intentions, M/M, ficlet challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecygne/pseuds/lecygne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Destiel Ficlet Challenge on Tumblr. </p>
<p>Prompt: Person A and Person B are at a party together. Someone tries to roofie Person’s A drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Destiel Ficlet Challenge](http://destielficletchallenge.tumblr.com/) on [Tumblr](http://nikistiel.tumblr.com).

Thursday nights are the slowest for Charlie’s Bar, and have been for the past few years that Dean Winchester has been there. The bar owner, Charlie, a fiery red head that treated Dean like a brother, had a great idea to bring in some business – Speed Dating!

Dean had laughed at the idea off, but Charlie had insisted.

“It’s a great idea! There’s no other place that offers same-sex speed dating-“

“Because it’s a terrible idea-”

“And it will bring in new cliental-”

“And you get to play matchmaker.”

“Think of all the future happy couples, Dean!” Charlie hopped up onto the countertop and sighed dreamily. “We could help people find their soul mates, find true love! And when their grandbabies ask where it all got started-“

“They’ll tell them they hooked up at a gay bar?” Liquor bottles clanged noisily against each other as Dean stocked them a little too roughly. “Doubtful, and get off of there.”

Charlie scoffed at him, jumping off her perch and giving him a playful shove. “It’s my bar I can sit where I want, and stop being such a downer, Dean! This is a great idea.”

Dean acquiesced in the end. It was, in fact, Charlie’s Bar.

Speed dating was, as it turned out, very good for the bar.  Within a few weeks Charlie’s was becoming quite the popular place on Thursday nights.

This particular Thursday seemed, on the surface, no different than the last few weeks. By late afternoon the casually dressed regulars had filtered out and Charlie had set up her table near the entrance with pages of red “Hello, my name is” stickers. She greeted Benny, the bouncer and was handing a name tag and marker to a man in an ugly trench coat.

Two men had started a pool game to wait out the hour before the event began. A shark-like blonde man in a sleet gray power suit that Dean had recognized from last week had taken a corner booth to sip on his Glenlivet. Trench coat man was finishing up at the registration table and heading to the bar and-

Trench Coat Man was hot.

Dean knew better than to stare, but that didn’t seem to stop him, nor was it stopping Trench Coat Man. Had Dean spared a moment, he would’ve seen the name Castiel written in large block letters on the lapel of his coat. As it were, he was currently caught in a staring match with a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Trench Coat Man was sliding onto a bar stool while Dean was trying to think of the exact hue of pink his lips were before he realized those lips (rose petal pink, he decided) were asking him a question.

Shit, he had ordered a drink but Dean was too far gone to have heard it. The tips of his ears tingled and burned as he tried to find his voice again.

“Huh?” Oh yeah. Real eloquent, Dean.

Trench Coat laughed a low throaty thing that made Dean’s stomach flip.

“I asked if you Stella had on tap.” Blue eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement and Dean was vaguely aware that he was in fact a bartender and did indeed work here.

“Uh, right, yes! Yes, yes we do.” Dean licked his lips, and flashed Trench Coat a smile in an attempt to recover his cool demeanor. Trench Coat Man stared at him for another moment, his head tilting and eyes squinting in slight confusion.

“Do you think I could have one?”

“Right!” Dean scrambled for a pint and filled it hastily, chastising himself for getting so caught up on this guy he never met. Dean met plenty of attractive, available men in his job and none of them had rattled him like this before. He took a deep breath, cleaned off the glass and resolved himself. He was totally going to play this cool.

“So,” he set the pint in front of Trench Coat Man and slid it towards him. “What’s your name?” Well, not as cool as Dean was hoping for, but direct and to the point. He was still good.

Trench Coat had that same amused expression on his face as he reached up and tapped the nametag lapel of his coat where “Castiel” was written in large block letters.

Dammit. Dean could fry an egg on how hot his face had flushed.

“Castiel Milton. Pleased to meet you…” Castiel had extended his hand and Dean was quick to oblige, vaguely noting his soft skin and firm grip.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hello, Dean.” His skin prickled with goose bumps when Cas said his name.

“Can I confess something, Dean?” Castiel dropped his gaze and dipped the tip of his index finger into his mug, making small swirls in the foam demurely. The sudden change took Dean off his guard, not that he’d been holding much of his own so far.

“Lay it on me, Cas.” Dean rested his forearms on the bar top and leaned into his space. Cas’ eyes snapped back up at the name, catching Dean in another intense stare down.

“I’m a bit nervous. This whole speed dating thing is a bit…”

“Terrifying?” It was Dean’s turn to smile empathetically. Cas wasn’t the type of guy that usually frequented Charlie’s. They mostly fell under the categories of “party boys” and “power suits” and Cas seemed to be neither of those things. He seemed more of the boring tax accountant type.

Not that Cas was hard on the eyes – Once he shed his oversized coat, Dean’s interest was suddenly piqued as a well-tailored blue suit clung to his firm body. He looked muscular, but lean. _Probably a runner_ , Dean thought. And his eyes, man Dean could wax poetic about the depths of their blue for years. They were so deep, like two perfect pools and _fuck_ Dean was staring _again._

At least Cas was staring back.

“Try turning it down a notch, maybe?”

“What?” Castiel blinked innocently, tilting his head and squinting accusatorily at Dean.

“You’ve got kind of an intense look. Does tall, dark, and brooding usually work for you?”

“I-“

“Good evening gentlemen!” Charlie’svoice boomed from the loudspeakers. Dean watched Cas’ adam apple as he swallowed nervously, eyes raking down the muscles of his neck. He shook himself mentally; _Get a hold of yourself, Winchester_.

“When you entered today, you were given a number. All of the odd numbers grab a seat at your table de ambiance, any ol’ order will do. Odds get to be the pillow princes for the evening.”

Cas pulled a slip out of his pocket, a large number 13, sighed at it and moved to stand.

“Good luck out there, tiger.” Dean flashed a smile and wink, reveling in Cas’ awkward half smile and let his eyes linger on Cas’ retreating form a little longer than necessary.

“Evens, you have work to do tonight! After each two-minute session you will hear a buzzer, bid your adieu and shimmy one table to the right. Yes, it’s tragic, you will not get to fall in love at first sight with EVERY many in here tonight, but that’s why at the end of our session is our open mixer! Now, is everyone clear on the rules?” There were nods of affirmation and Dean felt a pang of _something_ as he watched Cas squirm nervously in his seat, settling for sitting ramrod straight with his hands folded on the tabletop.

The evening progressed noisily and Dean’s eyes were trained on Cas’ profile. The bar was nearly empty, for which Dean was immensely grateful as he soaked in all of Cas’ interactions. He hadn’t relaxed at all, sitting straight up with his hands folded politely on top of the table. As the rounds progressed, Cas stayed inexplicably immoveable. His gaze seemed to make his partners nervous but Cas’ eyes didn’t hold any of their fond amusement or bashful flirtatiousness that Dean had bared witness.

 Twenty minutes later the speed dating portion of the evening was finally drawing to a close. The bar would be busy as the men were encouraged to drink and mingle with their ‘new found friends’ and Dean kicked his himself into gear, moving back and forth behind the bar and taking orders.

A rumpled looking Castiel was back as soon as the last bell sounded, draping his coat over the same seat as before. He plopped down onto the bar stool, unbuttoning his coat and pulling at his tie.

“That was uncomfortable.” Cas said as soon as Dean was back in ear shot, which didn’t seem to take very long. Castiel was a flame and Dean was the moth drawn to its warmth.

“What, you’re telling me you couldn’t find Prince Charming in twenty minutes?” Dean turned back from shelving a diminishing bottle of spirits with a teasing grin, “What a cruel world we live in.”

“My expectations for the evening weren’t quite so high to begin with. Then again, perhaps it’s because you were stuck back here.” Castiel offered a tentative smile, and Dean definitely did not blush or cough a giggle into his hand.

Their easy back and forth was dropped as Dean was called away by thirsty patrons. He could feel a tingle along his back as he knew Cas’ eyes followed him. Dean basked in the attention minutely, preening and flexing, not minding the stares that raked over his body and reveling in one in particular, earning an elbow to the rib from Charlie.

“Quit showing off and get some damn drinks out!”

It was nearly forty minutes later before the crowd had thinned and Dean was allowed to relax momentarily.  Castiel was still occupying the same space, his hands gripping a low ball glass filled with amber that Dean hadn’t served him before. The blond shark-like man Dean had recognized from earlier had taken up residency next to Cas and was leering at him through hooded eyes and leaning into his space.  One hand was gripping a matching glass (Glenlivet, Dean remembered) while his other arm was hiding under the bar in a place that made Castiel’s shoulders tense.

Little alarms began ringing in Dean’s head, but he stayed back for a moment, busying himself with drying glasses. Blondie’s nametag read “Bartholomew” and Dean snorted at how pretentious it sounded. Bart was leaning forward again, pressing his lips against Castiel’s ear and reaching around him, covering Cas’ hand with his own and stroking up the length of the glass.

That’s when Dean saw it.

The little white pill had fallen deftly from Bart’s fingers and was quickly dissolving into Castiel’s drink.

Dean was shocked he hadn’t immediately dragged Bart out of there by his damn hair like he wanted to. In fact, Dean wanted to be a lot more violent than that. He took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle of scotch off the shelf, making quick strides towards the two.

“Top her off? On the house!” Dean’s voice caused Bart to jump back, his hand retreating from Castiel’s thigh. Cas was squinting at Dean and belated he realized that Cas might have actually been enjoying his pervious conversation. Dean felt an odd twisting in his stomach at the thought.

“Yeah buddy, sure.” Bart waved dismissively and Dean’s smile was falsely saccharine. He tipped the bottle haphazardly, missing his mark and spilling it onto the bar, the scotch dripping onto both mens slacks. “Whoops.”

“You clumsy son of a bitch!”

“Sorry about there, oh it’s not too bad, just dry it off!” Dean offered them clean towels with a false smile, grabbing a third and wiping down the counter quickly.

“Tell you what, you finish these drinks off and next round is on Charlie for your troubles, eh?”

Bart was knocking back his scotch quickly, slamming the glass down and pushing it at Dean forcefully before tossing the damp towel at him. Cas was staring intently at Dean, locking them into stasis for a moment and Dean could swear Cas was asking him not to go. Dean wasn’t sure he could even move.

“Hello? I said get me another scotch!” Barts words sliced menacingly through their moment and Dean reached out with the bottle again.

“No, pour it on your side. I won’t have you ruining my entire suit. Now, Castiel, where were we?”

Dean moved back into the background as Bart captured Castiel’s attention. He busied himself with cleaning up the last of the dwindling customer’s drinks, always keeping an eye on the two. Cas was idly turning his glass in his hands while Bart had seemed to press closer than ever.

It took about ten minutes before he saw the sudden slump in Bart’s shoulders. His movements were becoming more erratic and he was swaying on his stool ever so slightly. Dean made his way over with the intentions of clearing Bart’s empty glass when he tuned back into their conversation.

“How about...” Bart’s hand was gripping the bar top now, his knuckles turning white as if to steady himself. “How about you and I…” Dean had moved around the bar as Bart toppled over towards Cas. Dean reached his arms out, steadying Bart with a grip that was rougher than he may have intended, waving Benny over.

“Well, looks like some people just can’t hold their liquor.” Bart stumbled on his feet as Dean maneuvered him into Benny’s grip. “Let’s call this guy a cab, he shouldn’t be driving in his condition.” Benny nodded and escorted Bart out of the bar, pulling out a cell phone and on the way.

“Did he just roofie himself?”

Dean whipped around. He grinned sheepishly, palming the back of his neck.

“I may have switched your drinks.”

Cas’ laugh burst from his chest and seemed to startle them both.

“Are you the Knight in Shining Armor for everyone?”

Dean was blushing again, and felt a kick to his gut of sudden protectiveness. “That guy was a total creep. He deserves a lot more than that let me tell you. The way he was invading your personal space! He was pawing all over you! That’s just… You shouldn’t be treated like that, alright?”

“I have another confession.” Cas was toying with his trench coat in his hands, bashfulness coming out the blue once more. “I was waiting to ask you out after your shift.”

It was Deans turn to bark out a startled laugh. “Really? So you came to a speed dating event to hook up with the bartender? Was that all part of the plan?”

“Well, I was just making it up as I go.” Cas smiled and pulled on his coat, digging a business card out a deep pocket and pressing it into Dean’s hand.

“Call me. I’d hate to have to go through another round of Speed Dating just to try and hit on the bartender.” Castiel made to leave, brushing past Dean and leaving him staring at the card with a lopsided grin on his face. He thanked and waved goodnight to Charlie and Benny, catching Deans eye one last time before he pushed past the door.

“See, Dean?” Charlie bounded over crashed into Dean. “It’s true love!”

 “Now you’re going to have to tell your grandbabies you hooked in a gay bar.”

“Shut up.” Dean laughed and pushed her off of him gently, pocketing the card with a smile.

Yeah, Thursdays were good nights.


End file.
